Monday, February 25, 2013

Glad you could drop by, Chris. Can't wait to see what you have to share with us today.

My name is Chris, and I
write under the names C.R. Moss for erotic and mainstream romance and Casey
Moss for mainstream dark fiction (horror, suspense, urban fantasy). My
professional bio for C.R.: “An eccentric and eclectic writer, C.R. Moss pens
stories for the mainstream and erotic romance markets, giving readers Worlds of Possibilities when it comes to
love.”

Basically I write stories from the light and sweet to the dark and
deadly with varying degrees of sexual heat. The bio for my other persona: Casey
Moss delves into the darker aspects of life in her writing, sometimes basing
the stories on reality, sometimes on myth. No matter the path, her stories will
take you on a journey from the light-hearted paranormal to dark things
unspeakable. What
waits around the corner? Come explore…

Today I’m here to tout my latest C.R. Moss release, Lovers and the Fiend. This is a story in Evernight Publishing’s
Naughty Fairy Tale line. The characters, Jack and Kristina, appeared in my
short story – Chasing Miss Kringle –
that’s in an Evernight Publishing anthology – Stockings and Suspenders. This is the first of a handful of stories
I have planned for the NFT line that revolve around the world started in CMK and Lovers. You don’t have to read the anthology story to read Lovers, but it’d be nice if you did. ;)

Blurb for Lovers and the Fiend:Ex-cop
turned private investigator, Jack Vorst, learns his elf girlfriend Kristina has
been missing for a few days after being invited to an underground vampire club.
He, too, is summoned to visit club Hexenringe and is taken captive. Jack finds
Kristina bound and gagged in a human sized bird cage. They’re both thrust into
a kinky world at the hands of Kol, the club owner. Kol, a vampiric beast,
shifts into human form to be with Jack and Kristina and needs them to remember
their pasts and to love him so he can return to what he used to be. Can Kol make
the pair fall in love with him despite his current situation and the fact he’s
keeping them captive or will they leave, making it too late for him to change
all their fates?Warning: ménage a trios, M/M,
bondage, anal sex, sex toys, public exhibition

Excerpt:

When the machine stopped, Jack’s gaze fell upon Kristina. She sat in
a human sized bronze birdcage. Metal rods that fed through the bars poked into
her porcelain skin. Her red hair swept up into a bun gave her a mock facelift.
Around her head was a black harness, and a bit rested between her teeth.
Kristina’s arms were pulled above her head, and her wrists were clamped within
cuffs molded to the top of the cage. Thin chains and leather straps wrapped
around her torso. The silver and black only rested above and below her breasts,
leaving her chest exposed.

Anger boiled through him seeing her imprisoned in such a way. He
wanted to break free from his own bonds and pummel Kol’s head in.

Kristina lifted her face and her gaze caught Jack’s. She winked. Any
fears he had in regard to her predicament and comfort, and his ire over her
situation, deflated. He studied her again, and this time his cock reacted to
the erotic picture she portrayed.

I gather you’re okay? he stretched his
thoughts out toward her. Sometimes they were able to communicate telepathically
with each other. He hoped this was one of those times, then tried not to snort
his disdain. Telepathic thoughts. She was an elf. When he’d first met her,
they’d shared a couple of magical, other worldly interactions. And yet, he
still didn’t believe in the paranormal. What
is wrong with me?

Kristina tittered. Nothing’s
wrong with you, darling, and I’m fine now that you’re here. I see you’ve become
acquainted with the beast.

Her gaze flickered with caution or perhaps worry. Beast? Jack breathed hard through the
hole in the gag. Something about all this didn’t seem right. Why’d she call
such a handsome fellow a horrible name like that?

Footsteps fell behind him on the wooden floor. Seconds later Kol’s
breath warmed his neck. The dancer’s finger stroked the cleft of his ass,
teased the puckered hole. Jack jerked away from his touch and received a
stinging slap on his ass.

Hey!

Kol came around him, keeping his hand on Jack’s waist as he did so.
The stroking of Kol’s palm on his skin sent a flood of desire through him. Jack
did his best to will away the arousal this time.

After trailing a hand down Jack’s thigh, Kol then cupped his balls.
“Why are you trying to repress your natural urges?” His fingers toyed with his
sac then slid up and rimmed his tight sphincter once more. “Didn’t I tell you
to look within? Realize what is true?”

Natural? True? Jack closed his eyes,
pondering the dancer’s words. Had his past curiosities been more than what he’d
thought them to be?

Monday, February 18, 2013

If I
could write with an English accent that's what you'd be hearing. Although I was born here in NYC, I moved to
the UK and have spent most of my life on the other side of 'The Pond.' They did their best over there to hammer out
the Yank in me, teaching me to eat sausage sandwiches with Branston pickle,
drink Earl Grey tea and gargle with TCP (a liquid antiseptic) when I have a cold. I spent years bringing up my baby and
writing, editing a poetry magazine and teaching. Then, horror of horrors, the baby grew into a
lovely young lady with ideas of her own, one of which was to come to the USA
for university. She was hooked. She decided to stay on after college, and I
was forced to follow. Yep, they dragged
me back to the good ol' USA and are now trying to iron out the kinks, getting
me to say 'parking lot' instead of 'carpark,' spell words like 'realiZed' with
the Z instead of an S and eat—OMG—hot dogs.

So how did this
transplanted English Rose come to write a western historical novel? That, as they say, is a turn-up for the
books! Well, all that time we were living
in Britain we had long holidays—vacations to you Yanks—with thanks to the
English school system which gives the children a month at Christmas and Easter
and two months in the summer. Avoiding
the unpredictable English weather, we chose to holiday out west on ranches
where the weather was equally unpredictable but somewhat warmer in the summer—with
the bonus that the riding was good. Did
I say "good?" No, it was
great. To date, the baby and I have been
to some seventeen ranches throughout the western states, always searching for
some new scenery and some new experience.
I don't know how many miles we've clocked up on our road trips but we've
certainly covered a good few. Soooo, all
that western experience had to lead to something. What better than to write a book that
encompasses both the West that I love and the English Rose?

When I learned
that British aristocrats owned most of the large cattle companies in the late
1800s, the stage was set for LOVELAND. The Americans at the time, you see, could
not borrow money so readily as the British in order to start these companies. The
English and the Scots, therefore, moved in, foreseeing the fortunes that could
be made. Smart bunch! Only thing they didn't count on was—that
unpredictable weather I just mentioned.

Well, if I
continue, the Loveland story will be
spoiled and I'd obviously prefer it if you went out and read the book. So let me end here with my sincere thanks
once again, Becca, for having me here today.
As we say out west, "Much appreciated!"

I am very pleased to have you here, Andrea. I'm a country girl to the core so Loveland sounds great.

When Lady Alexandra
Calthorpe returns to the Loveland, Colorado, ranch owned by her father, the
Duke, she has little idea of how the experience will alter her future.
Headstrong and willful, Alex tries to overcome a disastrous marriage in England
and be free of the strictures of Victorian society --and become independent of
men. That is, until Jesse Makepeace saunters back into her life...

Hot-tempered and
hot-blooded cowpuncher Jesse Makepeace can’t seem to accept that the child he
once knew is now the ravishing yet determined woman before him. Fighting
rustlers proves a whole lot easier than fighting Alex when he’s got to keep
more than his temper under control.

Arguments abound as Alex
pursues her career as an artist and Jesse faces the prejudice of the English
social order. The question is, will Loveland
live up to its name?

EXCERPT:

She sat on a
stool and pulled off first one boot, then the other and kicked them
aside, then she stood and put her leg on the stool to roll down her stockings
one by one.

He marveled at her wantonness, her lack of propriety.
“Alex, stop,” he said, laying his hand on hers. “Stop. You know...”

But he was lost; she took his face in her hands and
pulled him to her, kissing him so any resistance he had had was now shattered.
His heart beat faster at the sweetness of her mouth, the softness of her
tongue, the lack of air as they sought each other. His hands moved over her
feeling the outline of her body, knowing its curves, its gentleness, its
yielding. “Are you sure?” he asked at last.

“I want you so much, Jesse, I want you so much, I’m
not waiting three years. And if...if anything happens, so what? We’ll get
married, that’ll be it.”

“Yes, but Alex, you can’t... I mean, it’d be a
shotgun wedding, it’s not how—”

“Shh.” She put her finger to his mouth and then
turned for him to unhook her gown. He ran his hands gently down her exposed
back, feeling each scar, then kissed her neck.

“You have nothing on under...”

“It’s how the gown is made. Monsieur Worth builds the
undergarments into the gown.” Her voice was at barely a whisper, a tremor
showing her nerves. She turned and still held the gown up to her, then, looking
at Jesse, let it drop to the floor.

Monday, February 11, 2013

After spending over a decade as a technical writer in
Northern Alaska, Claire Croxton chucked aside her mukluks, loaded up her cats
and relocated to a farm in Japton,
Arkansas to pursue a career in
writing fiction.

She had no idea there were places more remote than tiny,
Iñupiaq villages with no road access, yet she managed to find one. The woods of
MadisonCounty are inspirational and she has
written several contemporary romances, which she refers to as soul-searching
snark. They are filled with unique characters-strong, bold women and
knock-your-bloomers-off hot men. Sure they're flawed, but who cares? Have you
seen their abs?

In addition to writing, she serves on the board of the Ozark
Writers League and is the president of the Oklahoma Writers Federation, Inc.
Her non-writing time is spent managing Sunflower Heritage Farms where she
raises heritage breed rabbits, chickens, geese, sheep, goats, hogs and the
occasional Mammoth donkey.

Redneck Ex took 3rd Place in the Preditor and Editors 2012
Romance Book of the Year.

Blurb:

With one twang of a banjo string, Summer Leigh Johnson's
tidy, organized life in Barrow, Alaska
is jolted back to the Ozarks when her coon-hunting, tobacco-chewing,
bull-riding, redneck ex-husband asks for her help. She has two options: turn
her back on him like he did to her eleven years ago, or help. Burdened with the
curse of every southern woman--What Would Mama Do?--she goes to his aid. And
what does she find? The man she fell in love with all those years ago and a
second chance at love and family. The last time she gave her heart to Dwight,
he flicked it aside like an empty can of Skoal. This time he's cradling it as
gently as he would a speckled pup. It will take a lot more than Dwight's
southern charm and good looks to convince Summer to stay.

Excerpt:

“You’re going to Germany?”

“Yeah.” I stepped
into the bathroom and grabbed some Tylenol before taking my original seat. The pills
stuck in my throat and I washed them down with lukewarm coffee.

“Why the hell
would you go see your ex-husband?” Her red face clearly indicated her anger.

“His parents were
always good to me,” I tried to explain. “Generous and kind. Always made me feel
like a part of the family.”

“Screw that!”
Janice interjected herself into the conversation in her usual gentle manner.
“Any debt to them was paid when their ass-of-a-son left you.”

“We didn’t even
know you’d been married.” Bernice sounded tentative and worried. “How much can
this man mean to you if your best friends don’t even know about him?” She took
my hands, rubbed them softly and asked, “Why would you go to him? Especially
after all these years?”

“For God’s sake.
I’d never go see my ex!” Janice exclaimed.

“We all know you
wouldn’t piss on your ex if he were on fire...” Stephanie said.

“I would if I peed
gasoline!”

We laughed.

“Not everyone
abhors their ex,” I said.

“You might not
detest your ex, but God knows you don’t like the guy,” Janice said. “Never.
Once. In the eight years I’ve known you have you even mentioned him. Never! How
can you go to him now?”

“Because if I
refuse to go and something happened to him, I’d never be able to forgive
myself.”

Stephanie and
Candy nodded in understanding, but I could tell, Janice and Bernice needed more
convincing.

Monday, February 4, 2013

Please welcome Wendy Ely to Meet the author Monday. What are readers saying about this talented writer?

Rebbeca Rose calls Confessions "A beautifully crafted story of agonizing loss, everlasting love, and the power of forgiveness."

Sara's Reviews says, "Ms. Ely has done it again. This (Midnight Secrets) is an awesome book about secrets and love, death and redemption."

Wendy Ely lives in Phoenix, Arizona and loves to visit the quiet desert town that she set her Desert Secret series in. She started her writing career in 2008, focusing on the contemporary romance and romantic suspense genres. She serves on the board for her local Romance Writers America chapter and mentors authors in their own writing career.

When she isn't writing, she loves spending time with her real-life hero, their teenagers, and two crazy cats. Reading, watching movies, swimming, and enjoying the sunshine that her state provides makes her happy.